Beads
by Child of Loki
Summary: Missing Scenes for 1x15 'La Carnaval de la Mort'; In which Brody has to deal with an accidentally intoxicated LaSalle, and tries to get into the spirit of Mardi Gras.


**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**NCIS: New Orleans **_**or its characters…**

**Author's Note: I tried as hard as I could not to… but when has that ever worked? (Spoilers for 1x15)**

* * *

"You going to be alright, LaSalle?"

The man looked up at her, his eyes gleaming brightly and that stupid grin of his plastered across his face.

"Right as rain, Brody," he said. "Ya should call me Chris more often. It sounds nice comin' from your pretty lips."

She felt her eyes go wide. This was odd and really personal, even for him. But he did have the excuse of still being high off from Isoflurane gas. And unfortunately, was her responsibility, since Pride was wrapping things up with the NOPD, and the medics had already checked the poisoned agent out, stating he'd be fine and the effects would wear off in an hour or so. She'd sat him in back of the SUV, with the door open, standing guard to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. Or have any unforeseen adverse effects to his exposure to the chemical.

"Mebbe if ya had somethin' more festive, ya'd be more into Mardi Gras," he observed as she simply stared at him, tight-lipped. She wasn't sure if she'd yell at him or laugh at him if she dared open her mouth. "Ya want some beads?"

"Excuse me?" So much for keeping her mouth shut and not playing into his half-baked conversation.

"I can give ya some beads if-"

"I am not going to flash you, LaSalle," she cut him off before he finished. He burst into a laughing fit that had her cheeks flaming red by the time he choked out the rest of his sentence.

"-if ya want. I only meant that I'd give ya some ta wear if you want. I didn't mean..."

He trailed off, his gaze traveling downward from her face, and she had to clench her jaw and count to three in order to not physically harm the man who was staring at her chest, which was unfortunately currently only covered by a snug cotton t-shirt, stretched to its limits across her breasts, since she'd shed the body armor but obviously hadn't had the time to change back into her blouse and jacket.

She wasn't an idiot. Not to mention she'd lived with her ample endowments since they'd filled out. She knew she was busty enough that wearing anything besides her looser blouses inevitably attracted the attention of some men, and even a few women, who just couldn't resist checking out her attributes. But Chris LaSalle had never stared at her breasts in such a manner before... at least not that she'd caught him.

He swallowed and forced his gaze back up to her face, his blue eyes child-like in their hopefully apologetic expression.

Damn.

She knew it wasn't him. It was the Isoflurane making him lose control of his ability to police his thoughts and words.

"Fine," she said. "I'll wear some beads, if it will make you happy."

Big, stupid grin again.

"We gonna _party_ like ya've never experienced before, Brody."

* * *

_A couple hours later..._

"How you feelin', Christopher?" Pride asked, clapping the younger man on the shoulder.

"I'll be alright, King." LaSalle was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, making Brody wonder how long it would take the committed reveler to bounce back after coming down from the accidental chemical high.

"Well, don't party too hard." The senior agent turned to Brody.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll keep an eye on him. We're supposed to be meeting Loretta, Sebastian and Patton on the parade route in a little while."

"Speakin' of," LaSalle said, getting to his feet. "I need ta change into the proper attire."

They watched the holiday-obsessive Southern boy walk off, an unexpectedly increasing spring in his step before, shaking his head a little, Pride turned to Brody apparently to offer some advice.

"Do yourself a favor, Brody, and just go with the flow," he said.

She smiled. If anything summed up her experience with the city and her fellow agents, that was it. She played with the string of beads hanging around her neck in demonstration of her attempt to fit in.

"Nice beads," Laurel said, walking up with her jacket, ready to go with her father to visit Cassius Pride in prison.

"Thanks," Brody said, grinning and trying, really trying to get into the spirit of the festivities she frankly did not understand at all. "I got them off Chris."

Pride's eyebrows shot up and Laurel's lips twitched in a suppressed smile.

"Oh, really?" Laurel said, innuendo thick in her tone.

"Not like that!" Brody sighed in disgust, taking the necklace off over her head and flinging it onto LaSalle's desk. "Ugh! I give up!"

Father and daughter laughed as they left the building. A few minutes later, when Brody had all but talked herself out of going out with her friends, LaSalle reappeared in one of the more bizarre getups she'd seen him in. And that was saying something, considering his Uncle Sam costume. That same old, ingenuous grin that no matter how hard she tried to fight its pull lifted her spirits, was plastered across his face.

Damn it. Her resolve to spend as quiet evening as possible at home, maybe with a book and a glass of wine, evaporated.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Laissez les bon temps roulez," she said, taking his arm as they left the office.

"Hey," he said. "Where 're your beads?"

* * *

**A/N: Really, how could I not write this? That's my excuse. Although, LaSalle has a better one of accidental intoxication.**


End file.
